What’s most distressing about the continued investment that the film industry has put into the development of biopics about established musical artists is how little these projects focus on the process of musical authorship. Even a well-made biopic, such as Dexter Fletcher’s jukebox musical Rocketman, found more fascination in the birth of the Elton John iconography than the culture that spawned the emergence of a glam rock star.
It’s not expected that there will be any degree of nuance within many of these upcoming films, including the controversial Michael Jackson biopic that has faced backlash for its refusal to acknowledge the late singer’s notorious scandals. The films that have fared the best have been those that center on artists who aren’t at the forefront of culture, as there’s more of a story that can be told. In Kneecap, the examination of the rise of a Belfast hip-hop trio isn’t just an exhilarating coming-of-age story, but an explanation about why the protection of Gaelic language is critical to the perseverance of Ireland’s cultural identity.
Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh, Naoise Ó Cairealláin and J.J. Ó Dochartaigh made a splash within British channels in 2017 when their debut album C.E.A.R.T.A. (which translates as “rights”) was released amidst the heated debate over the Identity and Language Act. Although the violence of “The Troubles” has been well-documented, there have been relatively few narrative projects centered on the “ceasefire generation” of Irish natives that grew up in the aftermath of the Good Friday Agreement of 1998. Even with papers signed that signify the end of cultural tensions, Irish schoolchildren like Liam, Naoise, and J.J. were treated as second-class citizens.
Kneecap is immersed in the explanation of its artists’ cultural heritage because it’s essential to their surprising rise in popularity. Generations of Irish people struggled to hang on to what little of their culture was left, and still possessed a spirit of rebellion. Although Liam, Naoise, and J.J. received education from an Irish-language immersion school, they still understand the hardships their mentors had dealt with. Naoise's father, Arlo (played in an amusing cameo by Michael Fassbender), was forced to fake his own death in order to avoid repercussions for his involvement in an IRA paramilitary group during the height of The Troubles.
Despite the weight of history that the members of Kneecap had on their shoulders, the film isn’t buried in exposition. The depth to which the three leads feel ostracized has made it all the more ecstatic when after putting pen to paper, their infectious ballads of defiance are born. The energy in which the story is told is much closer to the kinetic thrills of British indies like Trainspotting or Snatch than the old-fashioned “rise and fall” narratives of biopics like Bohemian Rhapsody or A Complete Unknown. Although there’s nothing about Kneecap that’s intended to cater to a less-informed audience, the visualization of musical cues and lyrics gives the film momentum when the language barrier could’ve been tiring.
The most extraordinary component of Kneecap is how present it feels, which is because all three members of the band star in the film as themselves. While this is a technique that has occasionally been seen before, Kneecap isn’t a vanity project in the vein of Howard Stern’s autobiographical appearance as himself in Private Parts. Rather, the naturalistic performances that the trio gives is intended to reflect their frustration with cultural appropriation. Language means that natives have the right to tell their own stories, as the nuances of culture get lost in translation. The film’s best moments are the concert scenes, which capture the tangible feeling of generational artists that have captured the essence of a movement.
The performances of the band members aren’t particularly nuanced, but that doesn’t really matter considering how energetic they are. Kneecap is an emulation of hip-hop in how quickly it is redefined by various feuds, backlashes, and bans. In addition to running afoul of law enforcement, Kneecap was brutalized by the vigilante group known as the “Republican Action Against Drugs,” which claimed to represent the new IRA. At the same time, Kneecap is also a film about how challenging it can be to serve as both artists and activists; all three members have familial relationships, interpersonal dynamics, and romantic lusts that come into conflict with the firestorm that their music has inspired.
Kneecap doesn’t conform to the parameters of a three-act structure, and fails to make the implication that the story is in any way “finished.” Kneecap is still active, and to cap the story off with a convenient conclusion would be disingenuous. A final sequence in which a group of students partake in a rendition of an Irish language song is like the post-credit stinger of a superhero movie; it's an acknowledgement that the world’s changed, but also a confirmation that the best is yet to come.
Kneecap isn’t blind in its optimism. Given that the group’s name is a reference to the brutal torture techniques used by the British Army during The Troubles, it’d be disrespectful to suggest that the popularity of one group has made up for generations of trauma. Nonetheless, the implication made by Kneecap that the fight for Irish independence isn’t over is at least an insinuation that progress hadn’t stalled.